The Dangers of One Night Stands
by CrystalIceSweet
Summary: "What do you mean he's Mycroft's son?" John exclaimed, eyes wide as he regarded the green-eyed young man sitting casually on his sofa. When John had wanted a night of mindless sex, this was not what he had in mind. Slash.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

* * *

"Where are you going?" Sherlock asked from his lounging position on the sofa. "It's already 8."

Not expecting his flatmate to be awake, John nearly jumped in surprise at the question.

"Sherlock!" he exclaimed, eyes darting from the door to the man in question, "Aren't you supposed to be sleeping?"

"Bored," replied Sherlock with an eye roll, getting to his feet in one practiced motion. He stalked forward, eyes fixated on John. "Well?"

"I'm going out," John sighed, passing a tired hand through his hair, "Why? Do you want to come with?"

Sherlock's lips curved in to a small smile at that.

"Judging by what you have planned, I doubt you would want me to intrude upon your evening."

John rolled his eyes, not even surprised that Sherlock had somehow managed to deduce everything in John's mind.

"You're right," he allowed, "Now, if you don't mind, I'll be going now."

"If you have nowhere to go afterwards," Sherlock called after him just as he was about to close the door, "You can bring them back here. I'll be gone until tomorrow morning."

Too grateful for the reprieve, John didn't even ask Sherlock where he was going before trotting down the stairs.

* * *

The thing was, despite the nickname he had earned while in the military, John Watson was not a one-night-stand kind of man. When it comes to sex, John actually preferred to share some kind of sentimental link with his partner. But after a dry spell of nearly 2 years, John decided that maybe it was time to lower his standards.

"I can't believe I've become this desperate," John moaned to himself as he took another sip of his rum/coke.

The club was a middle-class thing that had recently opened two blocks away from Baker Street. The entrance fee was extremely cheap, not to mention the uninterrupted flow of alcohol. John was sure that with some manipulating, he'll get himself a one-night-stand in no time.

A laugh from his left made him look up in surprise.

"I have to say," his new companion said, his voice a smooth velvet that sent shivers down John's spine, "You don't look like someone who needs to find a bedmate in this kind of place."

If John didn't look like someone who needed alcohol to persuade people to sleep with him, then this new arrival probably didn't even need to talk before people would throw themselves at him. Dressed in a pair of skinny jeans, topped off with an elegant vest that looked a little bit out of place among all the sloppily dressed teenagers around them, the messy black haired young man before him looked like a model who got lost on his way to a photo shoot. Everything about him screamed power and wealth; like people should be grateful just to be in his presence.

"I could say the same for you," John managed, smiling awkwardly back at his companion. "I'm John."

"Hadrian," the young man shook his hand before taking a place beside him. He ordered a glass of Coke and took a sip, ignoring the way the bartender was almost undressing him with his eyes. John felt violated just by witnessing the scene.

"It's nice to meet you Hadrian," he said for a lack of anything else to say, "Hmm, how old are you?"

The moment the question was out, John flushed red and tried to stammer out an apology. He really didn't want to sound like some kind of nagging parent at the moment.

Luckily, Hadrian didn't look offended in the least.

"I'm 22," he replied, "And don't worry about it; I look young for my age."

John relaxed in to a more natural smile as he took another sip.

He had a feeling that this was going to be good.

* * *

Waking up after a night of heavy drinking was never a pleasant experience. The next morning, John moaned and groaned his way to consciousness, cursing his stupid decision to drink as if his body wasn't on the wrong side of 35.

"Stupid, idiot, moronic," he grumbled as he stumbled in to the bathroom, mind still a blur. It was only after he came down to the living room and saw a familiar figure lounging half-dressed on the sofa, that he remembered that he hadn't come home alone.

"Hadrian!" he exclaimed, and the black haired young man turned to look at him, an easy grin on his face.

"Good morning," he replied. Despite having drank almost as much as John the previous night, Hadrian looked awake and refreshed, his clothing free of any wrinkles. John wondered just how it was possible since he was sure they had spent the night crumpled on the floor. But before he could ask Hadrian that exact questions, Sherlock came in to the room, successfully attracting his attention.

"You really done it this time John," Sherlock piped up, a gleeful glint in his eyes.

"He's legal!" John protested, thinking that was what Sherlock was talking about.

Sherlock snorted.

"Of course he's legal, but that isn't the problem here."

"Sherlock," Hadrian snapped, and John was taken aback by how familiar he was acting towards the Great Detective. John may not be a genius, but he wasn't stupid. That was enough for him to arrive at the conclusion that somehow, Hadrian and Sherlock knew each other. And just like that, John suddenly had a very bad feeling about this.

"Of course we know each other," Sherlock said, once again intruding upon John's thoughts, "Hadrian here is Mycroft's son and heir. And let me tell you; my brother would be delighted when he finds out where his precious child had spent the night."

As Sherlock burst in to uncharacteristic laughter, John could only stare in horror at a sheepish looking Hadrian.

"Oops?"

* * *

**TBC.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Note:** Pairings are still undetermined. I may put up a poll for that purpose.

* * *

"I'm really sorry, I didn't realize who you were," Hadrian was still saying 10 minutes later as John sat on the sofa in a dumbfounded silence. He had passed the initial horror stage but was still stuck in a state of perpetual shock. Sherlock's evident glee at his predicament did not help the matter one bit.

"How…" John cleared his throat, "When did Mycroft get a son?"

From what John could remember from the haughty, a little smarmy gentleman that was Sherlock's older brother, family man was not something that anyone could associate with him. Any wife would have to be terrifying in order to survive him on a daily basis. John couldn't help but shudder at the thought.

"I'm adopted," Hadrian replied simply as he finally sat down, now that he was sure that John wasn't about to have a heart attack. "Father didn't want to make a big fuss about it so not many people knew."

John nodded mechanically. Somehow, that made more sense than Mycroft having a wife tucked away somewhere.

"And don't worry about Father, John," Hadrian continued, "Despite what Sherlock had said, he wouldn't care one bit where I spend my nights. I am a big boy after all."

Any further conversation was disrupted when the sound of a mobile pierced through the tense atmosphere.

"It's mine," Hadrian said before anyone else could think of starting to look for their phone as well. He gave John one last smile before pressing the talk button on his touchscreen.

"Potter speaking," Hadrian said in to the device. He remained silent for a while as he listened to what the other party was telling him before sighing, "I understand, I'll be there in 20 minutes tops. Do try to keep my assistant from causing some major catastrophe in the main time."

"Problem?" Sherlock asked, trying to affect a disinterested tone, but John knew him too well to be fooled by that façade. Whatever was happening with Hadrian interested Sherlock a great deal; and since it took a lot to catch the Great Detective's interest, John couldn't help but perk up as well.

"None," Hadrian replied airily and smirked when he saw Sherlock's shoulders droop a little in disappointment. "My meeting just got moved up so I'll have to leave right now."

"Oh," said John before he remembered his manners, "Do you want some breakfast to go? I think we still have some toast."

_If Sherlock hadn't used them in an experiment, _he didn't say.

"No," Hadrian shook his head, "Thank you John. I'll be taking my leave now."

And to John's confusion, the young man started to head towards the windows instead of the door.

"What are you doing?" he nearly shrieked when Hadrian put one leg over the ledge and balanced himself precariously over the void below.

"My father is going to get here in a few moments," Hadrian answered nonchalantly, as if he wasn't about to jump three stories, "Running in to him right now will just delay me unnecessarily."

"Don't-" John was about to say but it was too late. Hadrian disappeared over the window ledge with one last wave.

For a moment, John could only stare in horror at the window before instinct kicked in, forcing him to run towards where Hadrian had jumped. He looked out and down to the street, expecting what he didn't know. A dead body? Hadrian hanging on to the ledge for dear life? However, there was nothing; absolutely nothing. It was almost as if Hadrian had simply jumped out of the window and glided away.

Before John could recover from his fright however, their sitting room door opened once more to admit an impeccably dressed Mycroft, complete with his tie and ever present umbrella.

"Good morning John, Sherlock," Mycroft greeted them mildly as he took another step in to the room.

"Don't you ever knock?" Sherlock grumbled, his arms crossed. Despite his tall stature, he looked remarkably like a child about to throw a tantrum.

Mycroft ignored him, turning to John instead.

"I hear that Hadrian was here."

John's heartbeats started to pick up speed once more.

"Yes," he said, gulping. For some reason, in front of Mycroft's disapproving gaze, John felt 17 again and had just been caught by Anna McCain's father for getting too handsy with his daughter in the back of his beat up car. Except Hadrian wasn't a girl, nor was he underage. For all matter and purpose, Mycroft should have no say in what Hadrian does on a daily – or nightly – basis. But that really doesn't help the panic slowly taking hold of his entire body.

"Oh stop panicking John," Sherlock snapped, "Mycroft is like a shark; he can smell fear kilometers away."

"Why thank you," Mycroft grinned good-naturedly, "That's the nicest thing you have ever said about me."

Sherlock huffed in annoyance and turned away from his brother, leaving John the focus of the man's undivided attention once more.

"Hadrian has a meeting this morning," Mycroft told him, "I wanted to make sure that he arrives on time."

"How do you know he was here?" John asked, before something occurred to him, "You have people tailing your son?"

Sherlock actually snorted.

"He tries to have people tailing his son," he amended while Mycroft glared at him, "No one could ever tail Hadrian if he didn't want them too. Mycroft uses this either as a training opportunity for his new recruits or to put his minions in their places."

"Hadrian is very adept at staying unseen," Mycroft admitted, smiling at John.

"Hadrian has already left," John replied, feeling a little more in his element, "His meeting was moved up."

"Understandable," Mycroft nodded, "Now then, I think I'll take my leave as well. Sherlock, Mr. Watson, I bid you a good day."

With that said, Mycroft turned on his heels and left the flat.

"Dear god," John said, sinking down against the wall. His legs felt like jelly after that encounter.

"You can sometimes be such a drama queen," Sherlock remarked and ignored the incredulous look John threw his way.

TBC


End file.
